Everyone Says I Love You
by Collegekid2006
Summary: Henry's tried to say it Shawn's entire life...and he's failed everytime. These are just some of the times Henry's come so close...and yet landed so far away.
1. Chapter 1

"What the hell is _that?_" Henry growled, glaring at the contraption sitting in his driveway, blocking his truck in.

"Isn't it great, Dad?" Shawn beamed, lovingly running his fingers over the handlebars of his brand new motorcycle.

Henry stared in horror at the death machine as his son climbed on, settling onto the seat as if he'd been riding his entire life.

"I think I'll call her Marla…" Shawn continued happily as he gripped the handlebars as if he were already doing ninety down the freeway, pointedly ignoring his father's growing disgust. "…Or maybe it's more of a Frank …can a motorcycle be a dude?"

"I'm not buying you a motorcycle, Shawn!" Henry informed him, scowling as he circled the beast like a knight searching for the weak point in his foe's armor.

"You don't have to!" Shawn told him, pulling a folded sheet of paper out of the pocket of his leather jacket and handing it triumphantly to his father. "I saved all my Weinermobile money all summer. It's a done deal, Dad. I own it."

Henry looked down at the bill of sale, scrutinizing every dotted-T and crossed-I.

Damn it, it looked perfectly legal.

He sighed and handed it back to Shawn, still scowling at the bike. "Well, you're not riding that damn thing without a motorcycle license!" he told him next, quickly running down his mental list of all the reasons Shawn couldn't own a motorcycle.

"Oh, really?" Shawn snorted, reaching into his other pocket and pulling out his wallet. He opened it and tossed it to his father.

There, staring up at him from the little plastic sleeve in the front was a brand new California Operator's license, Class B.

Motorcycles.

Shawn's smug, plastic grin quickly vanished when Henry slammed the wallet shut over it and threw it back at his son.

"When did you take the test?" he demanded, glaring at Shawn.

"Last week," Shawn shrugged. "My Driver's Ed teacher teaches motorcycle classes on the weekends. He let me use his."

Henry sighed, running his fingers through his hair as he saw his perfectly logical list of reasons going up in smoke.

"Insurance!" he snapped a moment later, the light finally coming on as he grasped at his last, fleeting straw.

No way in hell Shawn had thought that far ahead!

Not the kid who forgot his lunch money every single day in fourth grade.

Shawn just laughed. "Bam!" he exclaimed, whipping yet another sheet of paper out of his back pocket and thrusting into his father's face. "I paid my first premium two hours ago. I'm covered for six months!" Shawn grinned, crossing his arms victoriously.

Henry stared down at the form, a cold sweat starting break out across the back of his neck as he realized that this time he couldn't do it.

This time, he couldn't stop his son from killing himself.

"Shawn--" he started again, a desperate edge creeping into his tone. But Shawn just waved him off breezily.

As if nothing he said even mattered.

He was determined…and there was nothing Henry could do to stop him this time.

"And I have a helmet, Dad." Shawn rolled his eyes, anticipating his father's next objection.

He picked the helmet up off the ground and plopped in onto his head, lifting the visor. "Face it, Dad. There's absolutely no good reason I can't own a motorcycle!"

"Yes, there is, Shawn!" Henry snapped.

"What is it?" Shawn demanded, his eyes narrowing.

"You'll break your damn neck!"

"I'm not going to break my neck!" Shawn shot back, starting the bike up. "And it's my damn neck to break, anyway!" he shouted over the noise, revving the engine even louder now.

"Shawn!" Henry shouted back, straining to be heard.

"What?"

Henry hesitated, meeting his son's eyes through the thick helmet.

"What?" Shawn shouted again when his father didn't answer the first time.

"I'm not paying for your damn gas!" Henry growled finally, his eyes narrowing to match his son's glare.

"It's like ten bucks to fill the tank!" Shawn shouted back, flipping the visor shut and pealing out of the driveway, leaving his father in a cloud of dust as he pulled onto the road and disappeared around the corner.

For a full five minutes, Henry didn't move. He stared intently down the street, waiting for Shawn to turn around and come back.

Waiting for the phone to ring…

For the ambulance sirens to come screaming down the street…

Finally, he turned around and slowly headed back into the house.

"You'll break your damn neck."


	2. Chapter 2

"Stand still!" Henry growled, grabbing the tie around his son's neck. He straightened it, nudging the knot gently upwards at Shawn throat so it no longer hung loose and disheveled over Shawn's shirt.

"Daaad!" Shawn groaned, pulling away from his father's grip and loosening the tie again so he could breathe. "Leave me alone!"

"Shawn," Henry grunted. "I'm not going to let you walk into the church looking like a slob!"

"I can look like a slob if I want to!" Shawn argued, mussing his hair and loosening his tie even more. "It's _my_ wedding, Dad!"

Shawn nodded firmly when he was done running his fingers through his hair, satisfied he looked suitably rumpled, and started to walk up the church stairs. Henry pulled him back down.

"Shawn!" he snapped. "I mean it! You're not marrying that girl looking like a slob!"

Shawn met his father eyes, immediately seeing how serious he was about this. "Fine," he rolled his eyes. "I'll straighten the damn tie."

"Thank you."

Shawn sighed, reluctantly yanking the knot up to his Adam's apple. "There?" he choked dramatically. "Are you happy?"

Henry rolled his eyes, not impressed by his son's performance. "Just get in there, Kid," he grunted, pushing his son towards the door. "You're twenty minutes late. Gus is probably wondering where the hell you are. If you're lucky, he hasn't told Jules you're late yet."

"It doesn't start for an hour," Shawn shrugged, starting up the stairs again. "And it's not like I have to rehearse standing there at the front…I think I can handle that."

"You'd _think._" Henry muttered, not sounding convinced his son actually had that capability.

Shawn laughed.

After five slow, plodding steps he finally reached the top stair, pausing in front of the large, white doors that led inside.

Henry came up behind him, stopping when Shawn did.

"Come on!" he urged, pushing ahead and opening the door while Shawn remained frozen in place on the top step. "Let's go!"

"Dad--"

Henry turned back around, groaning as he let the door slam shut again. "Don't do this now, Kid," he growled. "You're not getting cold feet an hour before your wedding!"

"I'm not!" Shawn insisted. "My feet are fine! I'm wearing three pairs of socks. See?" He lifted his pant leg, showing his father his layered socks.

Henry rolled his eyes. "Then what is it?" he demanded.

"I don't know…" Shawn mumbled, dropping his pant legs and wiping his hands off on his tux vest. "I guess I just need a minute."

"You don't _have_ a minute, Shawn! You're already running late!"

Henry went for the door again, but Shawn pushed it shut before he could get it open. "Dad!" he snapped. "Just give a minute, okay?"

Henry blinked in surprise. "Why?"

Shawn sighed, releasing the door and slowly taking a seat on the top step. "I don't know…my life's about to change forever. I'm getting married! Don't I at least a get a minute to process it?"

Henry let go of the door, adjusting his own tux vest as he took a seat next to his son. "You get a minute," he agreed finally, looking down at his watch. "And I mean sixty seconds, Shawn."

"Thanks," Shawn mumbled sarcastically.

They sat in silence for a moment as Shawn fumbled with a few stray pebbles that were on the stoop next to him.

"You're going to be fine, Kid." Henry told him finally.

Shawn nodded, staring down at the step, not meeting his father's gaze. "I know."

"You're ready."

"I know," Shawn looked up, his eyes locking with Henry's. "I know I am. You made sure of that."

Henry smiled almost imperceptibly. Anyone who didn't know him might have missed it…but Shawn knew where to look.

A real Henry Spencer smile wasn't in the mouth…it was all in his eyes.

"Just don't screw it up, Kid," Henry mumbled, rumpling his son's hair as he stood up and walked inside.


	3. Chapter 3

Henry saw him at the road by the entrance to the graveyard, standing silently behind his motorcycle, his hands jammed into the pockets of his leather jacket.

At first, he pretended he didn't see his son. He didn't even turn around, keeping his head facing stalwartly at the open grave in front of him.

By the end of the service, his neck was so stiff from the stubborn refusal to turn it that he couldn't even move it if he tried, which he still wouldn't.

He hung around after everyone else had gone.

Shawn was still standing there in the road, silently watching every move Henry made.

Finally, Henry walked over to him, his mind already pouring over what he was going to say…

What he should say…

_It's been a year already…_

_I haven't seen him in a year…_

Before he knew it, before he was ready for it, he had reached his son.

For a long moment, they just stood there, the bike between them, staring at each other.

Shawn was the first to speak.

"Hey."

"Hey," Henry returned, his eyes absorbing every subtle nuance in Shawn's face, searching for indication of what he had been doing over the last twelve months.

There was another pregnant silence as Henry searched for the words he wanted so desperately to say.

"I tried to call you…" he mumbled finally. "I wanted to tell you…I figured you'd want to be here. But I didn't have your number."

"I know," Shawn replied quietly. "Mom told me. I'm sorry, Dad."

Henry just shrugged, nodding stiffly, his neck finally moving. "He was bad off near the end…he couldn't even get around. He knew it was coming…he wanted to see you again, Kid."

"I know. I kept meaning to come back to see him…I just never got around to it. I've been busy."

Henry's eyes flashed with curiosity, but he fought with every ounce of his being the impulse to interrogate Shawn about what, exactly, had kept him so busy he couldn't even make time to call for an entire year.

Shawn seemed to sense the questions boiling beneath his father's stony stare, however. "I've been working, Dad," he told him, his fingers grazing the motorcycle's handlebar. "I've been seeing the world…doing all the things I'll never get a chance to do if I don't do them now." He smiled palely, his eyes looking past his father at the grave. "Grandpa's the one who told me to travel, you know."

"I know."

"He's the one who didn't want me to get trapped in a life I don't want."

"I know, Shawn." Henry snapped, his jaw clenching. "Believe me. I know my father's philosophy on child-rearing."

Shawn rolled his eyes, reaching for him helmet. "Say whatever you want. His philosophy didn't involve giving his son a criminal record, Dad."

"It didn't involve his grandson stealing cars, either, Shawn," Henry shot back.

Their eyes locked over the bike, and for that brief moment it was a year ago all over again.

Shawn jammed his helmet back on his head, flipping the visor up so he could see his father. "I just came back for him. I'm not staying, so I don't really need to have this fight right now. I'll see you later, Pops."

"I won't be here, Shawn." Henry told him.

Shawn blinked in surprise, turning off his bike and removing his helmet again. "What?"

Henry nodded firmly, taking a step back. "I'm moving, Kid. You know I retried from the force. I was just staying around here to help out my dad."

"Where are you going?" Shawn asked, clearly dumbfounded by the news.

"Florida."

"Why?"

Henry's eyes met his son's. "What am I staying for, Shawn? Your mom's gone. My dad's gone. You're God knows where. What the hell am I staying around here for?"

Shawn blinked again, seeing it written across his father's face.

He didn't need a reason to stay.

Not really.

He just needed a word…

But it was a word Shawn couldn't give him.

Not right then.

"I don't know, Dad," he said finally. "I guess you're right. You don't have a reason to stay. Have fun in Florida. Send a postcard."

Henry nodded, looking down at the ground as Shawn put his helmet back on. "Yeah, Kid," he mumbled, looking down at the ground. "You, too."


	4. Chapter 4

"Henry," Madeline hissed, elbowing him awake.

"Huh?" he grunted, rolling back over before he had a chance to actually wake up.

"Shawn's awake."

Henry groaned and rolled over onto his back, opening his eyes and blinking up at the ceiling. "He can't be awake," he grumbled. "I just got him to sleep an hour ago. He can't be hungry again already."

"Tell _him_ that," Madeline yawned. "Maybe if you sit him down and work out a schedule, he'll think twice before crying next time."

Henry rolled his eyes and sat up, blinking at the clock, trying to make sense of the numbers staring back at him as his brain cleared away the last remnants of sleep. He could hear his son in the next room, crying loudly but not hysterically.

It almost sounded…calculated.

"He just wants attention," Henry muttered, dropping his feet onto the floor. "He knows exactly what he's doing."

"Yeah, Henry." Madeline rolled her eyes, rolling back over. "I'm sure your infant son is crying at two o'clock in the morning just to irritate you."

Henry sighed and stood up as the crying grew louder, but still didn't sound frantic or particularly urgent.

He trudged into Shawn's room and walked over to the crib. Shawn was lying on his back, his tiny, bloodshot eyes staring up at the ceiling and his fists balled into tight, angry balls as he continued to cry at the top of his lungs.

Henry stood over for a moment, their eyes meeting in the dark. As soon as Shawn saw him, he stopped crying and cooed, sounding more than a little like he was gloating.

"You're not fooling anyone, Kid." Henry growled. "I know you're not hungry. I know you don't need a new diaper. You just want attention."

Shawn sniffed, his bottom lip trembling as he threatened to start crying all over again.

"Don't try it." Henry warned. "It won't work."

Shawn closed his eyes and let loose a heart-rending sob perfectly calculated to pierce his father's eardrums. Henry rolled his eyes and picked him up, cradling him in the crook of his arm. "It's two o'clock in the morning, Shawn," he grumbled. "I'm tired."

Shawn stopped crying and babbled contentedly, not seeming the least bit concerned by his father's lack of sleep. After a few minutes, his eyes closed again and his breathing drifted into a shallow, dreamy rhythm. Henry placed him back in the crib and started to walk away.

As soon as Henry was out of his sight, however, he started to cry again.

Henry sighed and walked back into the room, standing over the crib again as Shawn stared up at him, his eyes wide.

"I'm not going to hold you all night just because you want constant attention!" he insisted.

Shawn blinked, looking wounded.

"Shawn, I need some sleep!" Henry groaned, starting to walk away again. He stopped when Shawn once again started crying the moment he was out of view, turning around and walking back to the crib.

"I'm not going anywhere," he murmured, his voice softening as his hand reached into the crib and gently grazed the top of his son's head. "Just because I'm not in your room doesn't mean I'm not here. I'll always be here, Shawn…you don't have to scream at two o'clock in the morning to prove it."

Shawn's eyes were sparkling with mischief as he gurgled, grabbing his father's finger in his pudgy little hands.

"You don't _have _to," Henry sighed, rolling his eyes, already knowing his lecture was falling on intentionally deaf ears. "But you're still going to, aren't you?"

Shawn still didn't answer the question, but the persistent glint in his eyes told Henry everything he needed to know.

Henry couldn't help it. He grinned at his son, the defiant battle of wills established. "Scream all you want, Kid," he murmured as Shawn's grip tightened around his fingers, seemingly accepting the challenge. "Who the hell needs sleep, anyway?"


End file.
